Cold
by sumire.syrup
Summary: —when love crosses the line, where do you stop? Gaara x Ino
1. My Love

**A/N:** I don't know where this came from. I have a feeling it will be a series of drabbles. Bleeeeeh. I don't know :( I guess it's slightly AU? Don't hate me you guys if I get anything wrong.

I've read a few really good Gaara x Ino and the more I read, the more I grew to love this pair. They are so beautiful. And then I felt inspired to contribute one of my own. This is a small community after all.

**Sia – My Love**

**Disclaimer**: don't own anything :(

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><p><strong>Cold<strong>

_You gave it all into the call,  
>you took a chance and<br>you took the fall for us._

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><p>She shifted her arm to her right side and patted the area, and likewise, she expected nothing. She was right. She hated being right.<p>

Their relationship was intrinsic. How she stumbled onto him, she will never know. Maybe it had something to do with a drunken escapade? Fate. That must be it. She's always been a believer of the cosmos.

How this pattern started, she will never know. But somehow the molding of their bodies felt perfectly right.

No she was not a whore, she had a life. But he chose to show up whenever he pleased. Did it scare her that he was a demon container? No. Maybe she liked the thrill or she was simply a masochist. Being strung along like a lovesick fool while he went about his dirty deeds. She doesn't even know what he does during the day besides running a country. Why? Because she never asked.

She rolled out of bed and adjusted her platinum blonde hair. The evidence from last night still evident from the tangled mess that sat on her head. Her ocean blue eyes sparkled back at her. They were always so full of light after she saw him. She's headstrong, rambunctious and loud. She is strong. She can take him on. And she knew he knew.

She'd better make her way down to the flower shop, or her mother will have her head.

...

"You know Ino, have you ever thought about... You know... Getting a boyfriend?" the bubblegum asked. She was wary of the topic because she knew that the flower child loved with all her heart.

"No Sakura, I'm way too busy for that. Seriously? I have to look after Chouji and Shikamaru for crying out loud!" Ino cried while fiddling with the bouquet of roses someone ordered.

Sakura sighed in response, "Surely you'd have someone in mind? God all the good guys seem to be taken."

Ino looked down in defeat. All the good guys _were_taken. That wasn't even a statement, but an obvious fact. Not ironic at all. If they were perfect, you'd think they'd still be available?

The flower child wasn't sure how she felt about her tumble with the redhead. She's never told anyone, afraid of being judged perhaps. But mainly because it was nothing official. She suppose she was merely his past time. A toy to be played with until it broke.

"...and I still have to meet up with him. What do you think Ino, should I?" The bubblegum had her paper cup crushed in her hand. Whatever the pinkette was talking about, Ino couldn't recall for the life of her. She was tired. Tired of these emotions, tired of their relationship. She wanted something real with Gaara. But something real was something she knew he couldn't offer.

"Sure I guess".

Sakura could guess something was wrong with her best friend but didn't dare ask. Ino will talk when she wants to talk. After all, what are best friends best for? They pick up broken pieces and try to mend what was once whole. They love unconditionally. They love by listening and comforting, but no sympathy. Sakura knew from all the years she's known Ino, Ino hated sympathy.

...

It was way past midnight, but she knew he would come. He always did. They never had a schedule but she felt like she knew when he would come. She had to. Didn't they have a connection?

Her showered and lotioned hands touched the railings of her french balcony. The coldness and the hardness of the metal struck her core. What if he didn't come?

Did her neighbors think it was suspicious that a flaming red demon left her room randomly twice a week? If they did, they never mentioned it. She did live in an apartment complex in which people minded their own business.

The full moon was out. For some reason she felt surprisingly naked in the moonlight. It draped over anything and everything.

And she heard her doorknob turn. How in her character to give someone she barely knew a key to her apartment. The quiet shackle of the doorknob moving was not lost on her. He was a quiet person first and foremost. She was a master of the mind but even she could not break his.

Before the door could open, she threw herself on the bed and pretended to be asleep. She loved it when he entered and found her asleep.

...

He didn't know why he kept returning or dancing between the bed sheets like they do, but he did. Maybe somewhere in the lonely heart of his he longed for acceptance. After all, she didn't seem to care. Even if he was once a world-proclaimed serial killer. He never understood why no one chose to say it to his face. As he ran a hand through his hair, he supposed the people knew their place well. Too well. It was expected for someone in the dirty world of politics to have a dirty past. Because politicians were never clean.

She would be his secret. She was his and he was hers. A dirty little secret but still a secret. A delicate secret that threatened to break as they tumble into oblivion.

He knew she would be here. She was always home after 2am. Even after her trips to the bar, to parties, to friends house or even her parents. No matter what he knew she'd be home after 2. And that was when he'd show up. Was he an insomniac? Possibly. After all, it is hard to sleep when you got mountains of paperwork to do. It's even harder to sleep when agonized cries echo your empty, black abyss.

People were scared of him. It was blatantly obvious. They did nothing to hide it. They spoke of him as he walked down the streets, but it was always behind his back. Maybe people will never forgive him. They will always look at him in fear and near disgust but bow their head in obedience. He was use to it. Fear did that to people. Did he care? He could care less. Gaara was someone powerful, and dangerous with murderous intent. He was not to be reckoned with. No one wanted to mess with the Kazekage.

What was he doing in Konoha anyways?

He looked down at her and she was asleep. As always. But he knew she wasn't. Why she pretended he'd never know.

But he did what he always did. He leaned down and stroke the hair out of her face. For a demon container he was surprisingly gentle. Why? Maybe it was because he didn't want to damage the flower child. To him it just wasn't a fair fight if he tried to break something that was so easily broken. How long had this been going on? He couldn't remember. Could he break her? That was a question he'd never want to answer.

He was tired. Not from the lack of sleep but from everything else. One that desperately needed to be loved is one that is loneliest. He is lonely. His office is empty. Not helping when all it did was remind him of the empty void in his soul. Could he fix it? Was there even a point in trying?

So he did what he didn't usually do. He took off his armor, his gourd and laid down beside her. The bed creaked in the new shift in weight. Could it even carry such a burden? Because for once in his life, he admits that he's cold. He could feel the tenseness beside him growing in the lump beside him.

Ino wasn't sure what to think but be scared. Gaara was unpredictable afterall. Other than this midnight ritual, they had nothing else that would concern them to each other. Was he cutting off the delicate strings that connected them together? So she did what she always did when she was nervous. She would talk.

"Long day?"

She earned a grunt back. If he would allow her, she would close her eyes and pretend that they were something else. Lovers, perhaps? His arm draped over her stomach and she liked the way it sounded in her mind. Lovers.

"Are you tired?" she asked. She was being careful. After all, their "relationship" was based on a delicate upspoken agreement. Were they even friends?

"I don't sleep." His voice was low and sounded like it was rarely ever used.

"Are you lonely?" leave it to Ino to get straight to the point. She may be a rambunctious character, but she did know when to control herself. She found comfort in knowing people who shared similar emotions.

"Sometimes."

She turned around and piercing emerald green eyes stared back at her. They were so cold. What did they hold? Anger? Murder? Dare she say sadness?

Ino wasn't use to dealing with this sort of angst. Because her friends weren't angsty. She was not angsty. When she was sad, she would cry. When she's happy, she would laugh. When she's angry, she would bitch. Ino dwelled in the public showcase of her inner turmoil. But with Gaara, she would try because he's a special case.

She raised her hand and brought it to his cheek. She traced the side of it. He remained indifferent and she felt awkward with the action, but what the heck? What else has she got to lose. Ino did like living on the edge.

"I sometimes feel cold."

And she knew that the wall between them was breaking. The ice is melting. Tomorrow will be a new day.

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><p><em>Tonight you will sleep for good,<br>you will wait for me, my love_.

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><p><strong>AN: **Should this be continued? Review! Criticize. Whatever. Do whatever you do after reading. My first gaa-ino fic. I'm tempted to make it a drabble because drabbles are easy. But do you guys think it'd be better to leave it as a one shot?

I find that it is extremely hard to keep them in character but I tried. I vomit at characters that are completely butchered by fiction. It's like watching a really, really lame horror film.

Please review and make me feel warm and fuzzy.


	2. Heavy in your Arms

**A/N: **A BIG thank you to all those who reviewed because it really encouraged me :) and made me WANT to get another one out. This chapter is dedicated to you guys and tim hortons. Because Tim Hortons has the best white hot chocolate and donuts and everything. Please correct me if I got anything related to canon wrong. I haven't seen canon in so long.

HAPPY CHINESE NEW YEARS BTW~

**Florence + the Machines **–** Heavy in your Arms**

**Disclaimer: **don't own anything

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><p><em>My love has concrete feet<br>My love's an iron ball  
>Wrapped around your ankles<br>Over the waterfall_

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><p>He wasn't sure where this sudden need of longing came from but maybe it was from the way cerulean blue eyes spoke. Because if they spoke of anything, they spoke of chaos, promise and uncertainty. They tempted him with oblivion. No, they <em>threatened<em> him with oblivion because he knew that if anything, he wanted to be lost in those cerulean pools and never be found.

Gaara sighed as he continued with the mountains of paperwork. Documents, paper and scrolls were one thing that was a constant in the Kazekage tower. How could he rest when he literally has a nation to run...

Why did coming back from the dead made him feel older? He brought his left finger tips to his temple and rubbed. Afterwards he leaned his head back and stared at the roof and sighed.

He was tired and feeling heavy. Could the flower child hold him? One who is chained to his past with iron balls? Did he weigh her down? Because she was like the wind, she needed to be free. He knew and respected that.

However he did feel comfortable in this seemingly claustrophobic cubicle. Regardless of the headaches and stress that they may bring him if he never finishes the work. Which is funny because work never seems to end.

No, he felt comfortable here because the inscriptions of the scrolls were promises written in stone. Feelings and emotions are not to be involved when coming to decisions. They were all based on logic and practicality. Feelings allowed for false judgement. He only needs to understand what is good for the greater good; for his people. Not what he saw suit for himself. In his position, no bias is to be directed. He must think objectively. It was something that long disappeared when it involved him and Ino.

Thinking about the Konoha flower made him feel alive, but it also made him tired. That's what he's become since he met her, a man of contradictions. Part of him wasn't use to such feelings and repelled it, but a part of him wanted it because he needed it.

When had he begin to dread crawling in between the sheets with her? Probably when he realized that he had a conscience. One that ate away at him every time he pulled the blanket to cover her sleeping body. One that he thought he never had.

This revelation shocked and scared him. Part of him was curious. It wanted to reach out and catch the strands of fate, but the other part was afraid. Afraid of how it makes him feel and afraid of a repeat. He was, after all, still sore from the incident twenty years ago. When he was only six.

It was etched into his forehead like a souvenir. A reminder of what closeness can do to people and how much it can hurt.

But he wanted her. Wanted her so badly it hurt.

However, flowers do not thrive in the desert. They eventually die from the lack of warmth and brutal conditions of a dry and cold land.

"You know how the council feels about these random trips to Konoha," a calm and confident voice interrupted his thoughts.

The sand kunoichi had a perplexed expression as she took in the messy form of her baby brother. What an insomniac, huh?

"It's treaty matters, they shouldn't be bothered," the monotone responded. As much as he respected the council's wishes, he just wished that they would stop crawling into his business. Not that treaties weren't their business, but still.

The travel time between Suna and Konoha took a couple of days, but the blonde at the end of the day made it almost worth it. Almost. The blonde came with something that he feared. Something that was relatively new to him. It was like playing with fire. He knew that would get burned. The only question was, was when. Or maybe he would be the one doing the burning. The thought made him cringe.

His eyes narrowed as he thought of the stoic faces during the last meeting.

It honestly didn't really matter because he did what he wanted and no one would ever directly object. It's just that no matter what, the council were also part of the major decision making and they were his advisors as well.

"I feel so drained," he said to no one. But Temari heard and she looked at him with an eyebrow raised as if he was talking to her.

"Too much work?" was that what ate him away?

"No, more than that." Of course, a deadly bloodthirst did once reside in him.

As much as the sand kunoichi loved her brother and as much as she worried about him, there were certain boundaries that she knew she had to stay behind. When he needed her, she will be there. Because that's what families are for, they love you unconditionally. Even if you three were the most unlikely trio, you love them because a part of you lies within them and that no matter what, they are the ones who will accept you regardless.

Her eyes softened and she knew he saw. He took in his surroundings carefully and skeptically. Even if there are times in which he looked like he was just staring blankly at empty space.

She understood. She gave a slight nod as she turned and left, closing the door gently behind her.

...

It's been a couple of days since she last saw him and she was scared. Ino hated being scared. She learned how to not be scared. How to forget that emotion because when working with the mind, you sometimes encounter the deepest secrets of people who have everything to lose and everything to hide. She learned how to be numb to their pain, broken dreams and trust. Numb to a point that it did not affect her anymore.

But this did not pertain to the mind.

She was not scared of his thoughts. She's never been able to penetrate the sand cage, not that she'd want to. But she was never and has never been able to read him like she could read... Perhaps Hinata. That girl wore her heart on her sleeves.

But Gaara was nothing like that. He was born out of the death of a mother and was nurtured with a feeling no child should ever have to feel, hate.

He was like an exotic beast. One that made her want to reach out and touch simply because she knew it was untouchable. She wanted to move closer to him simply because she knew he was almost unreachable. He came from species that you only encounter if you wander far far away from home. Which in a way was what she did, she wandered far away from her comfort zone and landed on something foreign. Everything about him was unpredictable, unexpected, unprecedented.

She resorted to taking in his facial features because those were what was defined the most in the moonlight veil. His breathing would also slightly elevate whenever he felt pressured or nervous.

That was what Ino liked doing most. She liked reading people. Shes always been a rambunctious extrovert but that didn't mean that she ignored the subtleness of an obvious introvert.

Ino had always thought of herself as a people person. She loved being around people. The voices, the chatter, the warmth, it made her feel at ease and alive. Being around people chased her nerves away. But Gaara was the opposite of that. He was all silence and cold. He was foreign. And it intrigued her. What is it with girls anyways? They always seem to be attracted to the brooding and mysterious type. Maybe that was the hype with Sasuke during her salad days.

Hm, sand.

Ah, why is there so much sand in here?

The trail of sand that interrupted her thoughts wound itself around her arm as she looked down in amazement. Had he always made such dramatic entrances?

She turned her head as she heard the click of the door and she stared intensely at the door knob. Hoping to see the devil that was slowly eating her mind away. But there was always that small tinge of pessimism. There was no way that would show up at this time.

And when he stepped through the entrance, she knew she felt uncomfortable but relieved at the same time. It was weird to see him in her room. Not because she was not use to seeing him there but because he was usually there at insomniac hours of the night. Cause right now, she was sure, it was just an hour past midnight.

"Hey," she started.

"Hn," he acknowledge. Almost as if he felt out of place. Almost. Because if anything, he knew this room like the back of his hand. He's been here so often.

Ino hated the silence and she struggled to come up with something, anything, to fill the empty void.

"I haven't see you around lately," ocean eyes shifted. As if she knew she was treading on uneven waters simply by making that statement.

"It takes a lot of time to travel between Suna and Konoha. The council is growing restless," he said softly. It was then that she noticed his expression softening and his mouth having a downwards twich. As if he was afraid that she'd leave him for that. Could she even let her self believe that?

When had they become more than just a conventional pair?

For a second she forgot how to swallow.

Gaara never would've thought that seeing the sudden tenseness in her jaw, noticing the way her eyes darkened and shifted, and noticing the sudden stiffness in her shoulders would make him so uneasy. Almost ashamed that he could not accommodate. That he did not make an effort.

Their relationship had been a silent agreement more than anything. One in which both parties silently vowed not to pry in each other's business. Anything that was outside the confinements of her room stayed outside.

The flower tried and succeeded in biting back the question that hung on her lips. One that she feared would disrupt the delicate balance that their relationship laid on. Did that mean they were over? Simply because their geographical location prevented them from being together?

Almost as if he'd been reading her mind, Gaara could help but let the words slip.

"I try," he said quietly, eyes looking directly at her with no shame.

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><p><em>And is it worth the wait,<em>  
><em>All this killing time?<em>  
><em>Are you strong enough to stand,<em>  
><em>Protecting both your heart and mine<em>

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><p><strong>AN:** ahhhhhhhhhh. I squeezed this chapter out of my poor brain. Sigh looking from this chapter, so far there hasn't been much dialogue xD I've never been good with dialogue. I actually typed this whole thing up on my iPod touch :D Cause I get random spikes of ideas. And it is a drabble series so it's short :3

Ah, you guys please raise awareness for the SOPA/PIPA bill. It's currently being postponed... but it threatens the very core of the internet. It's an attempt to control the internet, and FF would be shut down if it was passed. The smaller websites are a lot more vulnerable. I'm not even from the U.S. and I'm freaking out about it because it affects a lot of the major engines beyond american borders. It's been postponed multiple times over the course of last year so obviously some creeps in the big white building still want it to see the day of light.

Even though SOPA/PIPA is currently postponed, they are nao trying to pass ACTA which is a _global _thing. It will affect _everyone. __Especially FF _ because you guys do understand that smaller sites like this one will be easily wiped out. If you love FF please protest! One cannot control the internet!

**review! **


	3. Honeythief

**A/N: **Hey everyone! I'm so sorry for taking so long. Actually this was typed up along time ago, but I've rewritten it like 5 times. I think this is the best I could come up with. But at least here it is. Let me be honest to you my dear reader, I don't really have a direction of where I'm going with this. I just needed a break from calculus. Graduation this weekend, woot!

**Halou **- Honeythief

**disclaimer: **I don't own anything!

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><p><em>Sometimes I doubt the path I chose<br>Sometimes my dreams feel all on hold  
>There's no doubt that this will make me strong<br>Because it's the hardest thing I've ever done  
><em>

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><p>It was the blood, he concluded. It had to be. But what he couldn't come to terms with was why it bothered him now. The stale iron taste and the red was a weapon in its own books.<p>

Naruto had said that he could start over. But Gaara thought otherwise. How could he? How could he when already, he's being denied the most simple human pleasure: sleep. Sometimes when he closed his eyes, he could hear their plea for mercy. He could and _should've _stopped.

The redhead had taken Naruto's words to heart and began his search for redemption and acceptance. He understood he might never be forgiven but it is a gamble he's willing to make. Afterall, he did deserve that much at least.

Being so closely related to him and having that sister tuition, Temari could sense the tenseness around her baby brother. She had tried to lighten the spirits of her dear brother, but she saw the fear and defeat in his eyes. Was it control that he's afraid of losing?

Although with Naruto as the Hokage, the relationship between the sand and the leaf had been uplifted dramatically, no matter where the red head went, he still felt ill at ease and awkward.

_"__I-I'm sorry, I take it back! Just-please!" the man had screamed but it didn't faze the demon container._

He didn't deserve her. Something so full and beautiful -and everything- was too perfect for him. But he knew he would not let her go. Even If the jinchuuriki no longer controlled his hunger, its greed and selfishness still lingered. And he would embrace it wholeheartedly, as long as this feeling of warmth -this sense of security- remains.

He could smell the enemys blood lingering on his sand. The stale iron no longer gave him same satisfaction and hunger he had felt back during his teen years. No, this feeling was filled with an emptiness that is begging to be filled. Which confused him because it was too late to feel like a boy that had just hit puberty.

The voices of the leaf nin echoed behind him but he wasn't really paying attention, people would never stop gossiping. The mission was a success and he supposed thats all that matters _for now._ He knew it was only right that he talk to Naruto himself, but at this moment he was just not in the mood. They would understand.

It's times like these that he really depended on Temari -and on some occasions- Kankorou. But more on the fierce blonde for the latter is just... blatantly unreliable when estrogen is around. He much preferred flirting with the female nin rather than "making love with papers" as he so he eloquently put it.

The messy redhead walked pass the trees as his noisy siblings bickered at the back. They didn't ask because they just knew. Maybe it's the bond between siblings. They weren't always like this, but some how as things changed, some things just fell into place.

Before he realized where his feet was taking him, he found himself at her doorstep. It wouldn't hurt just to see if she's home, right?

He fumbled with the lock as he felt the restless butterflies in his stomach. Would she still see him? It seems awkward - was he always this nervous when it came to her?

...

_"here," she had said. Instinctively he held out his and he felt cold metal on his palm._

_"It's... A key?," he asked hesitantly._

_"it's the key to my home." she responded._

_"What for?"_

_"Well... You know... If you're ever bored of those stale rooms at the inn..." she paused, considering what to say next, "basically, a home away from home."_

_Maybe she didn't know, but coming from her, it meant a lot to him. _

_..._

He thought it as a keepsake. Expecting that he'd never need it. There was no reason for it, he kept it with him because it bought him comfort. Somehow, he knew he was accepted there.

It was normal for him to drop by, so she wouldn't be surprised this time, right? Even if it had been awhile since he stopped by. But it shouldn't matter because she was always there -dare he say she was always waiting for him.

So it left him awfully surprised to find the flat lifeless.

Where could she have gone? He wondered. Her availability made him forget that she too was a ninja. A kunoichi too. One that had duties and reservations to her village just as he did for his own.

The way she called his name and the softness of her skin against his made him feel wanted, but it made him feel guilty. So he adamantly avoided it. It bothered him because he could see that she deserved so much more. He could see her value reflected in her companions' eyes. The way Shikamaru's scowl would soften ever so slightly whenever she waved at him and the way both Nara and Akimichi would defensively shift ever so slightly when ever Gaara appeared.

It made him feel dirty for taking advantage of her like that. He didn't have the right too. Yet he was a selfish man, too selfish to deny himself. It shouldn't hurt because he simply just wanted to be around her.

He breathed in the surroundings and took a forward step. Funny how he felt more at peace here than the confines of his own home. He could smell her and for a second, he could've sworn she was in the room -waiting for him.

He could feel her presence. It lingered on the vanity table, he thought, as his fingers gently glided over the white pearls and over the soft wood.

He could feel her in the soft laundry that she had left folded over by the bed. He could feel her presence in the way flowers decorated her windowsill.

But that was when he noticed the vase of daisies dying by the window. Suggesting that its owner had been gone for awhile. He didn't like death so close to her and he found himself biting back a scowl. He made his way over to the sink and filled a cup of water to quench the thirst of the neglected petals.

He laid himself down on the bed and rolled over. Maybe if he closed his eyes, she would appear and if he left them closed long enough, he might disappear. He could see her did but he could still feel the cotton sheets under him. Cerulean eyes bore into aquatic green. Platinum blonde spilt over the pillow. Porcelain hands slid over fleece and reached for him. He returned the gesture but only found fleece.

He grabbed the overthrow and threw it over his face. Maybe if he waited long enough, she'll appear. Hyacinths filled his senses.

Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and drifted.

And there was blood again. The safety of her room disappeared and what it became was a dry desert. The sky a blend of red and black.

His sand escaped his gourd and began to wound around his arm. Stretching his hands in front of him, he at looked at it in amazement. It wound around his hands, tracing its dirty stain. No matter how stubbornly he may scrub, his hands were still dirty.

Funny how these hands that ripped apart dreams and hopes is now desperately trying to mend back what it destroyed.

He scowled. He scooped a handful of sand and threw it, with as much power as he could but the dry winds always carried it back. The tiny grains scratched his face and his features darkened.

Closing his eyes, he could feel the sand beneath him give way. Maybe it is time that he too drown in this sand. Suddenly it felt so deep that maybe this was how it should end. She shall hone for his sins this way.

And when the tunnels started caving in, his heart raced. It was what he deserved but he didn't want it. So he began to dig. But sand had a way of getting you nowhere no matter how much you dig.

He could feel his lungs burning and he realized he forgot to breathe. He opened his mouth to scream, ready for the grains to rip and tear apart his lungs. But hyacinths filled his senses. A soft hum resonated in his ears and he could feel the weight and grain softening beneath him. He could feel cotton and fleece again.

HE could hear the lullaby that he'd grown accustom to and the voice that sounded like bells that he knew he was missing. Searching for confirmation and refusing to open his eyes, he reached towards the song and found skin in place of fleece.

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><p><em>I'm suppose to be<br>The stronger one  
>You always seem<br>To prove that theory wrong  
><em>

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><p><strong>AN:** Love you all.


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